


The Great Escape

by Bowm8935



Series: Fenders Week 2016 [1]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games)
Genre: AU, Be Gentle With Me, Dragon Age AU, Fenders, Fenders week 2016, Fenris as a mage, I'm still new to the smut thing, Little bit of smut, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Pre-Awakening, but yeah, some smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 18:41:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7652455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from FendersAppreciation blog on Tumblr:<br/>"Mage!Fenris/Anders in the Circle pre-Awakenings<br/>An AU where Fenris is a mage, whatever kind of mage the author likes and he’s been taken to the Circle after escaping Danarius. He begrudgingly friends Anders since he’s one of the few that don’t treat him like a walking power supply.Only request is that is a Friendship that moves on to romance, no hatesex, NSFW as much as an author likes. Submitted by @cypheroftyr"</p><p>Mage!Fenris wakes up in Kinloch Hold, disoriented and unaware of how the south operates differently in regards to mages than his native Tevinter. His roommate is a friendly mage who helps him adjust and hone his magical abilities.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Great Escape

**Author's Note:**

> First real attempt at Fenders. Please be kind!

Pounding, raging, stabbing in his head. Fenris tried to open his eyes, but immediately screwed them shut as the bright morning light assaulted him, sinking its sharp teeth into him like a million tiny daggers. Taking a deep breath, he groaned as he felt the swirling in his stomach, the organ twisting and turning like it was trying to find a way to escape the mess that was currently his body. His throat was dry and sore, his tongue sandpaper in the swollen cavern of his mouth. A throb of pain radiated up from his left leg, his calf muscle screeching from the work of holding a broken bone in place as well as it could.

What in flames happened to him?

He slowly moved to sit up, gingerly sliding his legs to the edge of the – what is this, a bed?- to dangle off, his toes barely able to touch the floor. He hunched over slightly, one hand rested softly on top of his still-churning stomach, the other massaging gentle circles into his temple to try to alleviate some of the pain he was experiencing. It felt like a world-class hangover, yet he had no recollection of partaking in any sort of drink or frivolity that would have led to this situation.

He moved to rub the palms of his hands into his aching eyes, trying to tug on the hazy memories floating in the recesses of his mind. The last clear memory he had was when he managed to escape Danarius with an unexpected paralyzing glyph combined with the effects of more potent alcohol- and his former master had been unaware of his talents as a mage. He had been a late bloomer, already neck-deep into the life of slavery and training to become a bodyguard. Part of him wondered if it wasn’t the ritual with lyrium itself that jump-started the process; he had become aware of an increasing connection to the fade deep within him, his magic starting out with little sparks when he was angry and slowly growing stronger. He was thankful he didn’t have the typical baptized-by-fire way of coming into his magic- who knows what Danarius would have done with him, then. Instead, he continued practicing his swordsmanship, becoming the fearsome warrior he was designed to be and practicing magic by night in his chambers. Quick wit combined with a very observant eye heeded him well in this manner, as he paid close attention to the art that both Danarius and his apprentice, Hadriana, crafted so as to learn it himself.

Excluding the blood magic, of course. _That_ was revolting, and he felt no desire to besmirch his soul with such ghastly measures.

He had slipped past the frozen magister, padding quickly down the hallways of the large estate, using his intimate knowledge of the small corridors meant only for use by slaves. Anyone he met gave him a wide berth, as all of his fellow elves had some sort of inane fear of him. Sneaking into the garden was easy enough; then it was a matter of using his magic and bodyguard training to stealthily kill the guards and disappear into the shadows on the street. He had hopped aboard the first boat out of Minrathos, conveniently headed toward Fereldan. He doubted it would be one of the first places Danarius would search for him.

His eyelids fluttered as the pounding in his head increased, causing him to seriously consider lying back down, crawling under the blankets and hiding from the torturous light. He reached for his magic only to find it fizzled and feeling almost incomplete, a new and ultimately confusing sensation to him.

Suddenly the memories from the previous night flooded through him with such ferocity he nearly fell back onto his bed in surprise. He had stopped to stay at an inn as he traveled the road from Denerim toward the Frostbacks, branching off to head south after coming across and butchering a band of slavers. He was looking for a large town that wasn’t the capitol he could hide in. His markings made him stick out like a sore thumb, of course, but if he disappeared into an alienage and always wore a cloak, he might be able to pass it off as vallaslin and blend in. He had snorted at the name of the particular tavern he’d chosen to spend the night at: The Spoiled Princess. What a ludicrous name. It was a dive, the floor dirty and the tables sticky. One lone waitress prowled the floor while the bartender watched, his eyes never leaving her ass. Fenris had rolled his eyes, plopping down gold in front of the man and asking for a room. Not bothering to look at him, the bartender handed him keys and sent him on his way.

Fenris knew little of the southern ways. He had accompanied his master- _previous master_ , he corrected himself- to a few places outside of Tevinter only a handful of times, and they stayed in their own mansions for the most part. Occasionally they would leave to meet someone else in their venue of choice, but that was the extent of their trips.

So he didn’t think much of the men wearing the Templar uniform in the corner. They were largely useless in the Imperium, mostly for show. Nor did he think much of taking one of the proffered candles to light the way up the stairs and using a bit of magic to bring the flame to life.

That’s where it became fuzzy. He recalled some shouting, and everything going black. Then he’d woken up here…wherever _here_  was.

He jumped noticeably at the sound of a door opening, the whoosh of air rushing in to further accost his senses. The rustling of clothing heralded someone entering before he heard the soft _snick_ of the door shutting again. There was a pause of footsteps in front of him for a few seconds, before they proceeded to his left as he heard the sound that accompanied the curtains being shut. The room became blessedly darker, though still lighter than his aching head preferred. He slowly opened his eyes, squinting in the direction of the person who had joined him. Movement occurred in front of him before he could focus on amber eyes now peering into his own, concern coloring them. The hair on his arm stood up as a hand clapped gently on his shoulder and magic flowed throughout him, causing him to stiffen at the intrusion.

“Just one moment, then you’ll be good as new.” A warm voice said. Despite his wariness, Fenris relaxed, leaning slightly into the touch. This was a type of magic he was unfamiliar with; it lacked the sharp edge and bitter tang of blood magic, yet neither did it carry the heavy and thick feeling that accompanied his force spells. No, this was light and airy, rejuvenating, welcoming.  _Healing magic,_ he realized as he felt the pain coursing through him first lessen, then fade completely. Soon he was left with only mild nausea and the unsettling feeling of being unable to reach for his magic.

Blinking owlishly, he was finally able to fully take stock of the human in front of him. Strawberry blonde hair pulled back loosely at the nape of his neck set against pale, freckled skin. A strong nose curved down his face, leading to his thin lips that currently held a smirk. Amber eyes sparkled mischievously at him as the man stood up, and Fenris was surprised to see how _tall_ he was. 

And handsome. Quite handsome indeed, although Fenris certainly _wasn't_ looking. Not at all.

"I thank you," he finally managed to say, voice hoarse and raw. The human's brows knitted momentarily, reaching to grab a glass off of the nearby dresser and handing it to him. Fenris took it, greedily drinking the water, savoring the feeling of the cool liquid flowing down his parched throat. 

"It was no problem. You were out, so I brought you some food for when you woke. Here," the man said in a mild baritone, handing a tray of food to Fenris once he'd demolished the water. Fenris took it, carefully setting it on the bed next to him, looking at the food eagerly. He prodded distrustfully at what appeared to be fish before digging into the potatoes, relishing every bite.

A chuckle escaped the other man's throat. "Hungry? I'm not surprised. They hauled you in here while we were eating last night, and you've been out since. Welcome to Kinloch Hold. I'm Anders, by the way."

Fenris eyed the hand offered to him warily before slowly reaching out to shake it. "I am called Fenris," he responded, unsure how to take the human's rambling.

"Anyway, we're roommates," Anders continued, oblivious to the confusion spreading over Fenris' face. "Well, that is, when I'm here. I escape a lot, but the blighted Templars always find me. I just got out of solitary confinement. Awful, that." He shuddered visibly, a haunted look passing quickly over his features. His voice dropped to a whisper and he folded into himself. "Andrastre's pyre, I was there for a year."

Fenris bristled; a year of being condemned to be alone? Even he, who preferred solitude, would not wish that upon anyone. He wasn't sure he would come out the other side sane.

Which begged the question... "Are you well?" Anders' eyes swung up to meet his gaze, bemused. Fenris was sitting still, watching Anders closely, attempting to discern if he was possessed. "You did not deal with any demons?"

A bitter laugh was his answer, followed by Anders vehemently shaking his head. “No. They couldn’t offer me anything that I wanted.”

Silence fell between the two, Fenris still gazing at Anders in curiosity. Anders shifted from foot to foot under the scrutiny, apparently uncomfortable, much to Fenris’ amusement. Finally, he asked the question that had been bothering him: “Where am I?”

Anders looked at him in confusion. “Kinloch Hold?” When Fenris showed no recognition, he made a noise of disbelief. “The Circle of Magi? In Fereldon? Maker’s breath, you have no idea, do you?”

Fenris shook his head. “I am afraid I am woefully naive when it comes to matters in the south.”

“The south? What, are you from…” Anders’ eyes widened as comprehension dawned. “You’re from _Tevinter?_ ” He hissed, lowering his voice to the point that Fenris had to lean in to hear it. “ _What in the Maker’s name are you doing down here?_ ”

“I was a slave. I escaped,” Fenris answered plainly. “It would have been unwise of me to remain in a country where I would have surely been found and returned to my former master. I ran, procuring passage upon the first vessel I could. That brought me here.” He shrugged, expression carefully neutral. “So I am in a Circle of Magi. That is a college for mages, is it not?”

Anders’ face twisted into a look of horror. “No! It is a prison.”

Fenris shook his head. “I do not understand. Where I come from, mages enter a Circle for study. That is not the practice here?”

Anders pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling noisily. “No, Fenris. That is most certainly _not_ the practice down here. Mages are free where you’re from. Here, we are prisoners; feared, looked down upon. We are _forced_ into the Circle as soon as our magic presents, to be guarded by the Templars, or so they say.” He flopped down gracelessly onto his bed, a hand rubbing at his neck. “More like they terrorize us,” he grumbled.

Fenris cocked an eyebrow at the explanation. “So I am a prisoner, then?” When Anders nodded, he stared off into space a moment, expression thoughtful. “And the Templars are to stop me from leaving of my own volition?” Another nod. “How, exactly, will they prevent me from departuring?”

Anders gave him a disbelieving look. “Oh, gee, I dunno, they’ll probably _smite_ you until you can no longer see straight, like they did last night.”

Fenris snapped his head around, looking at Anders suspiciously. “And you would know what they did to me last night how?”

“Uh, because I see the after effects of it all the time?” he answered, tone dripping with sarcasm. “And because I have been on the receiving side of more than a few smites myself.”

“So that is what caused my discomfort? Is that what also disrupted my connection to my magic?” At Anders’ affirmation, Fenris considered what he said. “Okay,” he started out slowly. “So I escape a life of slavery to become a prisoner. But you have escaped several times, have you not? So perhaps we can work to escape together next time.”

Anders stared at him before letting out a low laugh. “Sure, if you want to. But we’d better get you educated in the ways of us southern barbarians before you’re released into the wild again,” he said, chuckling.

Fenris nodded seriously. “Then let my education begin.”

~*~

The months slowly passed by, and Fenris was resigned to explaining about his markings constantly, fending off multiple attempts at using the lyrium as a battery supply. Surprisingly, Anders backed him up and between the two of them (and a talk with the First Enchanter) the other mages started to leave Fenris alone. This led them down a path dangerously close to friendship, something Fenris tried to backpedal away from initially, not wanting to be close to the blathering human. Eventually, he gave in, accepting that he actually _liked_ the man. Venhedis.

Fenris was surprised to find that he had channeled some of his magic into the ways of his ancestors, battlemages called Arcane Warriors. The Circle had very little information on that particular school of magic, much to his consternation. He was also worried that his fighting skills would grow rusty as he was only allowed a staff in the tower. Every morning he would run through his exercises, determined to keep his muscles toned and his body ready for the day he would take up sword again, knowing that allowing himself even a small reprieve could be the difference between life and death when they finally escaped.

He was able to get some actual training with his force magic, thankfully. As time progressed he found his mana pool expanding rapidly (it had apparently been rather small, as one Senior Enchanter Wynne had lectured him upon finding out) and his ability to call forth spells rapidly improving. He was forced through a Harrowing, coming out the other side easily enough. He had faced his demons and won by escaping Danarius; nothing the Fade held had any power over him.

While he trained, Anders planned. He was quite meticulous about it, doing his best to account for every detail, every possible outcome. Fenris found himself to be rather impressed with the man's ability, both with the planning and with his own magic. He was a dual spirit healer and primal Mage, lightning being his main forte with the latter. To help hone Fenris' abilities on the battlefield, they engaged in duels consistently- under the guise of leaning purposes, of course- and Fenris had surprised Anders by using his lyrium to ghost across the room, effectively pinning the man against the wall. Both had taken off their robes and tunics, panting heavily with the exertion of casting and avoiding spells. As he held Anders to the wall, Fenris found his heart rate increasing swiftly as the musky smell of man, sweat and elfroot permeated his senses. Anders was looking at him with heavily-lidded eyes, full of an emotion that Fenris wasn’t familiar with. For a brief moment, he considered what it would be like to kiss those lips that humor so easily fell from. Suddenly fearful, he dropped his arms, backing away quickly, dropping his gaze to the side. He heard shuffling as Anders moved away from the wall, clearing his throat.

“Well, _that_ is a handy skill to have. Certainly not frightening, no. I may be just a little turned on now, but I’ll never tell for sure.” Fenris dared a glance up at Anders, watching the man stroll over to his discarded clothing. Was that what that was? Desire?

“Anyway, the hour is getting late and the Templars will be banging down doors soon to make sure we get to bed. Let’s not disappoint them, eh?” Anders turned and opened the door to the classroom, letting himself out. Fenris dithered for a few moments before following. He was unsure what to make of what had just happened.

~*~

Finally, the day arrived. They followed Anders’ plans to the letter and soon they were running toward Denerim, trying to put as much distance between them and the tower as they could. Anders had nixed any thought of them going further south as there were rumors of a Blight starting. He had argued that there were three cities he thought would be big enough for them to blend into: Highever, Denerim or Amaranthine. Fenris didn’t care where they went, as long as he remained hidden from Danarius.

Staves hooked to their backs, Fenris let a smile creep across his face as Anders let out a loud whoop when the tower was but a pinprick on the horizon. The sun was setting, so they decided to make camp in a copse of trees to their north, a good distance away from the main road. Fenris hunted for food (vegetation only- it was too dangerous to start a fire to cook food as the smoke could alert anyone searching for them) while Anders set up, both enjoying the feel of freedom.

When supper was finished, they headed to a stream that was nearby, both planning to bathe. Fenris slid a toe hesitantly into the water, relieved to find it brisk but not freezing. He heard a loud and gleeful shout next to him as Anders bolted past, completely nude, jumping into the water without a care in the world. A chuckle escaped Fenris at the sight, and he turned away, stripping down to join him.

When he turned back, he was surprised the see Anders staring at him, eyes darkened. Again, there was an emotion painted on his face that Fenris could not read. His brows knitted together, he waded into the water, halting a few steps from Anders. “What is it? Why do you look at me like that?”

Anders tilted his head to the side, considering the question. “Do you really not know?” he asked softly, tone full of wonder. Fenris shook his head; if he knew, why would he ask? What a silly query. Anders blinked, watching him for a moment before he suddenly surged forward, hands tangling in Fenris’ hair, lips crashing against lips. Fenris stiffened briefly in surprise, hands on Anders’ chest, eyes wide. He felt a tongue licking softly at his bottom lip, and he opened reflexively, allowing Anders entrance into his mouth. Relaxing, Fenris dropped his hands to Anders’ waist, pulling him closer, moaning into his mouth when he felt his erection pressed against his belly.

A fire lit deep within as desire coiled, and Fenris broke suddenly, all teeth and bites and roughness, hands reaching up to yank out the tie that held Anders hair back. He weaved his hands through the light red-blonde tresses, tugging Anders head back, opening up his neck. Fenris stood on his toes and bit at his pulse point, eliciting a low groan from Anders. Fenris growled, pulling away abruptly, shoving Anders toward the shore. Anders went willingly, eyes blown wide with lust. They tumbled onto the grass, a mess of limbs and all rough, biting kisses. Fenris felt a hand grip his quickly hardening shaft, pulling up and twisting, causing him to shiver in anticipation. He bit down on Anders’ collarbone, licking the sore spot and reveling in the noises of need the man below him was making.

Unwilling to wait longer and wanting nothing more than to lay _claim to what was his_ , Fenris summoned a grease spell, taking his slick palm and reaching down, coating Anders’ length in it. Anders undulated beneath him at the movement, and Fenris gave a flick to the head of the shaft. A whine escaped Anders as he thrust into Fenris’ hand, and Fenris gave a low laugh, his voice husky and cracked with need.

“You’re mine,” he growled, straddling Anders. Positioning himself over the throbbing erection beneath him, he slowly slid down, letting the head penetrate him slowly as he hadn’t taken the time to stretch first. A gasp escaped both of them as he took Anders in to the hilt, his eyes closed and panting as he let himself adjust to the feeling. Slowly, he started to move up and down the shaft, eyes fluttering open as he looked down at the writhing man beneath him. “ _Mine_ ,” he reiterated, leaning down and biting the junction where neck meets shoulder, hard enough to bruise.

“Yours,” Anders agreed, arching into Fenris. The feeling was wonderful, the control exhilarating. Fenris moved with a steady rhythm, pace increasing as he watched Anders come undone beneath him. He threw his head back as he felt his own release building, Anders reaching up a shaking hand to wrap around his aching erection. Fenris gasped at the sudden contact, clenching as he saw stars, his loud moans pulling Anders over the edge with him. They rode out their bliss together, Anders pumping him slowly, Fenris bouncing up and down on top.

Fenris carefully slid off, rolling on the ground next to Anders, panting, eyes closed. A chuckle and then the rustling of grass made him look over at the man next to him who had propped up on an elbow and was looking at him with awe.

“I knew you wanted me. I am hard to resist, after all,” Anders said cheekily followed by a rather exaggerated wink.

Fenris snickered, pulling the man down into a chaste kiss. “That you are, Anders. That you are.”

Anders glanced around them, then back at their bodies. “Maybe we should get back into the stream and wash up now?” He waggled his eyebrows at Fenris, eliciting another huff of laughter.

“Yes, that would be good.” They reluctantly peeled themselves off the ground, heading back to the cool water. Fenris tailed slightly behind Anders, watching him move through the water. He would never have thought he could find this when he escaped. This, this _happiness_ , was foreign to him.

And he intended to never let anything take it away from him.

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as StarlingHawke


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